Disclaimer: Doctor Who is the property of the BBC and lately Russell T. Davies. Buffy belongs to Joss Whedon and those nasty old men at Fox whom I'd rather not mess with. Stargate SG-1 comes from MGM and Brad Wright among others. See my name in there? Nope.
Timeline: This story takes place during that sixty year block that I glossed over between chapters three and four of "Another Side of the Sky". Buffy's about twenty-five years old, so it's before the Beeyadeen Kibra incident she tells Spike about in "Better With Two". Thus our characters here are still-slightly-stuffy Tenth Doctor and still-slightly-spacey Buffy. In the Stargate universe, it's early season four. A/N: A huge squeal of thanks to BuffyCharmed, who made the prettiest little bit of fanart for this story, now included. If you want to send her thanks, it's under her "My Story Art".
The door eased open into the darkness. A blue light shone briefly until the lights switched on. “Storage closet.”
Buffy’s head popped out of the door just beneath the Doctor’s. “‘All of space and time,’ he said. And yet again, we crash land in the storage closet.” She stepped out ahead of him and looked around. “Pretty big storage closet. Very tarp-y.”
“At least it’s not a sewer.”
“Touché.” Having found a door handle, Buffy jiggled it, causing alarms to blare and orange lights to flash. The Doctor stumbled and grunted as she jumped backwards into him and the pair landed on their rears.
“Well, looks like someone’s noticed us,” asserted the Doctor as Buffy pulled him up.
“Want to go back in the TARDIS?”
“Nah.” He kicked the door shut. “She's not giving me any new information, and anyway, where’s the fun in that?”
She took his hand and looked up at him. “Keys all hidey?”
“What kind of an amateur do you take me for?” The Doctor grinned and squeezed her hand as a trio of armed guards stormed the room, assault rifles at the ready.
The lead man shouted the traditional armed guard greeting. “Hands on your heads and get down!”
The fellow to his left supplied the customary follow-up order. “Identify yourselves!”
Familiar with the routine, it was all the pair could do not to roll their eyes, but they knew that would only exacerbate the situation. “Hello, hello, no need for all the shouting. I’m the Doctor, and this is my companion, Buffy. We come in peace.”
“Sure, snakehead, get down and stay down!” The third guard provided a novel twist on the usual lines, and the Doctor’s eyebrows quirked.
Buffy frowned and pushed her fingers into her hair. “‘Snakehead?’ Doctor, you said my hair looked fine before we left.”
“It does. Lovely, in fact, I like the twist you added today.” He gave her an appreciative smile, which she returned.
“Shut up you two!” Ah, a return to familiar ground.
Buffy smirked. “Oh, yeah. We’re all shut. Now it's time to take us to your leader.”
The Doctor scowled as the guns lowered. “Dammit Buffy, you know I’ve always wanted to say that.”
“And one of these times you’re going to beat me to it.” Slowly, with erect posture and hands still up, Buffy approached the guards, noticing the MP patch on their sleeves. “Hi boys, no need to worry, just lead on.” With a brief double take, the first guard nodded, and cuffed his oddly amenable quarry.